


Juvenile Delinquent

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Series: A Boy And His Mom [2]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Angst, Backstory, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Down through the years, Brad has maintained a very special relationship with his mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juvenile Delinquent

**Author's Note:**

> For mydocuments; for hooking me up and for the spectacular job as a beta on 'Always With the Shield'.
> 
> While this is a sequel to 'a boy and his mom', this is a much more involved story than the first. I believe they each stand alone, but are probably all the better if both are read.

Brad shifted in his hospital bed, trying to get comfortable. The number of positions he could lay in were limited now, thanks to raw, abraded skin and bandages. The nurse checked his IVs a final time; antibiotics and a different painkiller than the one they’d given him in the ER when they’d scrubbed the dirt and pavement out of his injuries. This one wouldn’t turn him into a twelve-year old drug addict.

Brad had tried to tell them that _he_ wouldn’t let himself turn into a twelve-year old drug addict. He was better than that. He was stronger than that. They all viewed him as a skinny kid with floppy blond hair and pretty blue eyes. If he more closely resembled his family – stronger and darker – he knew they’d take him more seriously.

The nurse left and Brad carefully eased his weight onto his left ass cheek since the right one was numb. He bit back a gasp and moan. Brad couldn’t roll onto either hip. He couldn’t bend his knees without the road rash on his thighs screaming bloody murder. He had to twist his body to keep his right shoulder off the bed or the raw wound on his back would go from a dull ache to an eye-watering burn. He wasn’t going to let anyone see him hurt, anymore. As good as the painkillers had been, they hadn’t masked enough of his pain to keep him from crying as they’d treated him.

Brad let his eyes fall closed and he drifted along in a haze of exhaustion and medication. He cradled both heavily bandaged arms against his chest and stomach. His head pounded each time he moved. The lump was tender but it was nothing compared to the way his skull throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and hoped he’d be able to sleep. If he could just sleep, maybe it’d hurt less when he woke up. He was so tired.

It was so fucking worth it.

He’d been placed on the Pediatrics floor, as if he was still a baby. Brad could hear his mother’s voice drifting in through the door of his room. It was a semi-private room but the second bed was empty so it was quiet enough to know she was talking, even if he couldn’t make out her words. Even through his drug-induced haze, Brad could tell she wasn’t happy. She sounded pissed. He knew he was in a shit-load of trouble.

It was totally fucking worth it.

The sharp edges of his pain seemed to have dulled. The new drugs must have kicked in. Brad was pissed at even needing anything for the pain. Someday he’d be able to ignore the pain, no matter how bad it was. He hated being a kid.

Shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor of his room. Brad opened his eyes to see his mom, expression stormy and mouth pressed into a grim line. She had with her a uniformed cop.

It became obvious to Brad that he wasn’t in a shit-load of trouble; he was in a fuck-ton of trouble. He swallowed hard and forced his face to show no emotion and no interest at all in what was going on around him.

His mom sighed explosively. “Bradley, this is Officer Greer. You’re going to answer his questions and tell the truth.”

The tone in her voice always made Brad’s mouth go dry and his heart slam against his chest. That tone meant his mom was angry and disappointed. He dreaded what he’d see in her eyes if he looked, so Brad stared at a point on the wall just over the cop’s shoulder. He’d give neither of them the satisfaction of seeing how he felt.

“Bradley,” he mother said sharply, “did you hear me?”

He nodded languidly, calculating how far he could push his mom before she washed her hands of him entirely.

“I can’t hear your head rattle.” Her raised voice clearly indicated Brad was closer to crossing the line than he’d realized.

“Yeah,” he said, pleased that he sounded like talking took great effort. Brad didn’t understand this need to provoke his mom.

“I didn’t hear you.” If Brad was as weak as everyone thought he was, her tone would have made him flinch.

“Yes,” he snapped, unable to stop himself from inciting his mom’s ire.

“What was that?”

“Yes, _ma’am_ ,” said Brad, reluctantly.

“How old are you, Brad?” asked Officer Greer.

“Twelve,” he replied, still staring on the spot on the wall. The question irritated him. He had no doubt the cop had been fully apprised of Brad’s vital stats.

Greer narrowed his eyes at Brad. “You’re a tall boy, you look much older. But you _are_ still twelve years old.”

The cop destroyed any remote chance he might have had of establishing a rapport when he called attention to Brad’s height and how it made him different from his family. Since there was no question being asked, Brad played deaf.

“Bradley, look the officer in the eye,” demanded his mother.

Brad hesitated, despite knowing he was compounding a nearly untenable situation.

His mom stepped closer to the bed. “You did this all on your own, Brad. No one made you. If you don’t like the consequences of your actions, maybe you’ll think twice before you do something like this again.” Her words challenged his conviction that his actions had been worth the resultant cost.

Brad forced himself to meet and hold the officer’s eyes. His blue eyes didn’t make him weak and he was determined to prove that to anyone who doubted.

“Where did you get the motorcycle, Brad?” asked Officer Greer.

It was another stupid question. Brad hated being patronized by adults who should know better. “I took it from the neighbor.”

“Which neighbor was that?” Greer pressed.

“Mr. Patton.” Brad wondered if this was a game to the cop. Brad hated games.

“How did you get a hold of it?”

Brad clenched his hands into fists, struggling to hide his ever-growing irritation. “He never locks his garage and he leaves the key in the ignition.”

“What time did you take it?”

“About ten this morning.”

“Why weren’t you in school?”

“Cause I was riding a motorcycle.”

“Bradley!” his mom snapped at him angrily. Brad was grimly satisfied that he’d provoked her before they had broken him. He immediately regretted angering her, instead of the annoying cop.

“How did you plan to explain the sudden appearance of a motorcycle to your parents?” Greer asked, seeming unaffected by Brad’s sarcasm.

“I wasn’t going to keep it,” Brad replied, rolling his eyes. “I was going to put it back by three o’clock. The Pattons don’t even get home ‘til six.” Brad knew this because he’d spent months observing their house, studying their habits.

“But you got caught because you crashed it,” the officer didn’t make it a question, so again, Brad didn’t answer.

He also didn’t dare smile, although wanted to, when he remembered the four blissful hours he’d spent racing the Kawasaki up and down the freeway. Brad had never felt so free. He’d never had that much fun before, ever. When he’d gotten the bike up to eighty, he’d gotten a boner. He’d only gotten harder, the faster he’d ridden.

It had all gone to hell when Brad had misjudged the off-ramp and taken it too fast. He’d applied too much front brake and had sent himself sailing over the handlebars. Brad and the bike had both slid several dozen yards, narrowly missing a guardrail. He’d been narrowly missed by all the passing cars.

His tee-shirt and shorts had provided no protection at all from the hot and gritty asphalt. He’d slammed his head against the ground and had large patches of skin stripped away. Brad had no idea how long he’d been in the Emergency Room, but he knew it had taken them an excruciatingly long time to wash and _debride_ his wounds. He’d had x-rays taken of his aching body and a CT scan of his throbbing head.

“You’re in a lot of serious trouble, Brad,” said Greer, with a great deal of solemnity. “You entered a four-walled structure with the intention to commit a felony, so I have to charge you with both burglary and auto theft. Not only are you too young to drive a motorcycle legally, but you don’t even know _how_ to ride one.”

Brad wanted to argue that part vociferously. He thought he’d done quite well despite the fact it was his first time.

“I have to charge you with driving without a license, unsafe operation of a motor vehicle, exhibition of speed and malicious mischief, because your actions resulted in property damage. Do you realize how serious all of this is?”

“Yeah,” Brad replied morosely, still needing them to believe he thought it had all been worth the consequences.

“Mr. Patton is pressing charges. His motorcycle might not be repairable. He thinks you need to be taught a lesson.”

Brad had already learned a lesson. He’d learned that driving a motorcycle extremely fast was nearly a religious experience, and that he wanted to experience that rapture again. Next time, he wouldn’t crash.

Officer Greer turned to Brad’s mom. “Since he’s going to be in the hospital overnight, I’m just going to do a cite and release. He’s under arrest, I’m just not going to book him into Juvie. He’ll have to make a court date and appear before a judge, but between his tender years and the hospital stay, it’s best if he doesn’t go into the system.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” his mom said, her relief obvious.

Greer handed his mom some papers and left the room.

Brad resumed staring at the single spot on the wall, suddenly dreading being alone with his mom. He didn’t regret what he’d done, despite the outcome. He only regretted that he’d upset his mom.

She gently sat down on the bed and Brad could feel her anger rolling off of her. He started to clench his fists but the pain sharpened and the bandages tightened.

“What were you thinking?” his mom demanded.

Brad had been _thinking_ that school was boring, everybody there but his new friend – Ryan – was boring. People were easy to fool, no one on his block had any idea he’d been inside all of their houses. Mostly, he’d been thinking that he was tired of riding on the backs of other people’s motorcycles and only going the speed limit.

That’s not something a guy can tell him mom, though, so instead he said, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t buy that, Brad,” his mom said derisively. “You’re entirely too smart to have done anything like this without a reason.”

She was right, but he couldn’t let her know that. Instead, he shrugged, still keeping his eyes on the wall. Brad knew that his reasons weren’t important to anyone, only that he understood just how badly they believed he’d fucked up.

“You’re in a whole lot of trouble, kiddo. You realize that, don’t you?” she asked. “Just because you aren’t going to Juvenile Hall tonight, doesn’t mean you won’t end up there eventually.”

If only he’d taken the off-ramp a little slower.

“You ditched school, broke into someone’s home, stole their property and then destroyed it,” his mom was raising her voice. She was significantly more angry that he’d first thought. “How did you even learn to ride a motorcycle? What possessed you to do something like this, Bradley? You father and I raised you better.”

They’d never understand. He was different from them all, everyone need only look at him to know. He didn’t have the words to explain the way he felt and even if he did, no one – save Ryan - would understand.

His mother placed herself directly in his line of sight. “Bradley, look at me,” her voice was hard and angry.

Brad shifted his gaze slightly, still avoiding her eyes. He clenched his jaw, struggling to steady his breathing. He gasped when his mom grabbed his face, her grip tight and bruising. Her fingers pressed his cheeks hard against his teeth. She so rarely touched him in anything other affection, she almost never touched him in anger and it made his heart race.

“Act like a man and look me in the eye,” she raised her voice so loud she nearly shouted.

Brad had no choice but to comply this time. Reluctantly, he met her dark eyes and what he saw there was so much more than just anger.

“What were you thinking, baby?” Shifting her grip, she cradled his face gently with two trembling hands. “You scared me to death. I got a call at work from an Emergency Room nurse – a complete stranger - telling me you’d been in a very bad accident.”

Brad swallowed around the lump in his throat. He’d frightened his mom. She was upset because she’d been worried about him. He really hated upsetting his mom.

“You scared years right off of my life, Bradley.” Her grip on his face tightened, growing slightly more painful. “No mother should receive a phone call like that.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way; he was going to have the bike back in Mr. Patton’s garage before anyone even knew it was missing.

“You’re in a lot of trouble and you bet your ass your father is going to ground you until you’re twenty-one,” his mom continued angrily, filling his silence with her raw emotion. “We’re all going to have to apologize to Mr. Patton. Your father and I will have to take time off from work to take you to your court dates. We’ll have to pay good money to Mr. Patton for the ruined motorcycle. On top of all of that, you could have killed yourself.”

Brad forced himself to hold his mom’s gaze, despite the pain and desperation he saw there. The possibility he could die had never occurred to him. He’d simply _known_ that he could ride that motorcycle. He’d miscalculated his speed on the curve of the ramp, but he’d never make that same mistake again. And he would do it again.

He just wished it wouldn’t scare his mom so bad.

“Don’t you ever, _ever_ , do anything like this again,” Brad’s mom ordered harshly. “You’re my son, and I love you. I would die if anything ever happened to you.”

Brad watched in horror as his mom’s eyes filled with tears. His face flushed in shame and his own tears once again pricked at the backs of his eyes.

She smoothed his long bangs out of his eyes and off of his forehead. “I need you to grow up, healthy and strong and happy, sweetheart. Don’t ever scare me like that again. Understood?”

Brad couldn’t speak so he nodded his answer instead.

~*~

At the very ancient age of five-years-old, Brad declared the he would never again call his mother ‘mommy’.

“Okay,” his mom had carefully replied as she’d rolled out sugar cookie dough. “What are you going to call me instead?”

“Just ‘mom’,” Brad had declared with all the solemnity the situation required. He’d given this a lot of thought and he meant what he said.

“Well, that’s fine then,” she’d replied amiably as they cut out the cookie shapes and carefully slid them onto the baking sheet. “And what’s the reason for this abrupt change?”

“Only girls and babies say ‘mommy’,” Brad had informed her, believing she’d immediately see the truth in his words.

“Is that so? So, it’s alright for your sisters to call me ‘mommy’?” she’d queried.

“Of course. They’re girls _and_ they’re babies.” Brad had finished the glass of milk his mom had poured for him.

“That’s fine with me. But just so you know, if you change your mind, you can call me ‘mommy’ anytime you want to.”

“I won’t want to.”

“Okay then. Climb down here so you can put the cookies in the oven. I’ll set the timer.”

~*~

Brad had been excited about starting Junior High School. He’d been sure he’d finally have some challenging classes. He’d convinced himself the teachers would finally be smart and not lame and stupid. The kids would be almost grown up so they wouldn’t be like the idiots he’d had to put up with in elementary school.

Like so many other things in Brad’s life, Junior High School was a disappointment. His classes were too easy, his teachers were retarded and the other kids were lame.

All except for Ryan.

Ryan was equally as smart as Brad so he understood why Brad believed their classes and their teachers were stupid. He laughed at the same things Brad did; he liked the same TV shows, the same books and the same video games. If Ryan had a flaw, it was that he didn’t like Air Supply. Brad would forgive him that because he liked to Boogey-board and had no qualms about standing guard while Brad picked the lock on the door of a neighbor’s house.

The best thing about his friendship with Ryan was getting to ride on the back of his dad’s Harley. It was a big, heavy bike and its top speed wasn’t as fast as he knew Mr. Patton’s Kawasaki could go, but it was loud and powerful. Ryan’s dad encouraged them to hang out in the garage while he worked on the Harley, freely explaining things to Brad as he worked.

When they were all done and it was nearly time for dinner, Ryan’s dad would take each of them on a ride around the block. It was never long enough or fast enough for Brad. Someday, he’d be able to ride whenever he wanted, just as fast and as far as he wanted and no one would be able to stop him.

There was one other good thing about Junior High. Jennifer. Brad had noticed her on their very first day, sitting on the opposite side of the room in his English class. He’d watched her from the corner of his eye as he’d sat talking to Ryan. Brad was sure Jen had been watching him, too.

Standing with Ryan at his locker one day between classes, a friend of Jen’s had walked up and without preamble, asked if there was a girl in school that Brad liked.

If Jen was going to play it cautious, then so was he. “Maybe.”

The next morning, Brad had opened his locker to find a hand written note had been shoved between the vent openings.

 _You have a secret admirer._ It had said in childish yet decidedly female handwriting.

Brad showed the note to Ryan who smiled up at him and punched him in the arm.

A couple of days later he was in English, trying not to nod off over _Julius Caesar_ , when Ryan had surreptitiously slipped him a sheet of notebook paper folded into a tiny, hard triangle. Carefully, Brad unfolded the paper.

 _Do you like me?_ _  
__□_ _Yes_ _□_ _No_

 _Jennifer._

Glancing over, Brad saw Ryan smirking at him knowingly. Jennifer was pretending to read.

Brad marked the box next to _Yes_ , re-folded the note and slipped it back to Ryan. When the teacher’s back was turned again, Ryan slipped it to Jen’s friend and finally, it made its way into Jen’s eager fingers.

He’d thought he was in love and he thought he had a best friend that he’d have for the rest of his life. It helped him to ignore the growing sense that there was more out there for him to explore. It helped Brad to ignore the need to be a part of something bigger than all of this.

At least for now.

~*~

Several days each month, Brad ditched school.

On these mornings, he rolled out of bed at the same time, made the same complaints, and got ready at the same speed and in the very same way he always did. At the appointed time, he’d climb on his bike, like he always did, and ride off in the direction of his school.

Several days each month, Brad would stop at the 7-11 instead of riding all the way to school. He’d wait until his parents were supposed to have left for work, one of them dropping off his sisters at the elementary school. Brad would carefully pedal back home, keeping an eye out in case one of his parents had been delayed.

When he was assured the coast was clear, he’d let himself back into the empty house. From the bay window in the living room, Brad would watch the neighborhood. For months, he studied all of their neighbors’ routines and habits. He gathered intel on their comings and goings until he could predict and anticipate.

When he was sure he had everyone’s timetables memorized, Brad started letting himself into their houses.

At first, he touched nothing. Brad simply walked around and looked at how everyone lived when they thought no one could see. He was surprised at how messy some of the houses were. Others hardly looked as though they were even occupied. Brad very quickly learned that people, all people, kept secrets. Virtually no one on the block actually lived the life they wanted their neighbors to think they did. There was evidence of rocky marriages, mistreated children and kinky sex lives.

As with everything else in Brad’s life, the thrill of simply breaking in lost its punch. It was then he began moving items to different places in the house. It excited him to imagine the reactions of the occupants as they tried to remember draping a pair of boxers over the TV, or as they puzzled over how a bra ended up hung from a light fixture. He removed batteries from sex toys and in one instance, rigged a sex swing to collapse. 

The first thing he ever took was a pair of briefs from Michael Dawson’s bedroom. Michael was a high school senior and played football. He spent a great deal of time without a shirt and Brad admired his body. He wanted to have that kind of body someday; lean, muscular, athletic. It was a body that put Brad in mind of a competent man and that’s precisely what Brad wanted to be. It was what he truly believe he _could_ be.

He kept them hidden, taking them out from time to time in order to remind himself he really was smart enough, and skilled enough, to get in and out of all these people’s houses undetected.

After a time, Brad began to wonder if taking a pair of guy’s briefs might have been child’s play. Proof of his skill required a repeatable result, so Brad broke in again and stole a pair of panties from Michael’s sister, Megan. She attended college. He’d seen her in a bikini last summer and she, like her brother, was pretty hot.

One night, Brad overheard his parents gossiping about Mr. Patton and the new motorcycle he’d bought that was the obvious sign of a mid-life crises. Brad watched from the bay window for months, each time Mr. Patton tinkered with his Kawasaki crotch-rocket. He watched longingly each time Mr. Patton rode off on the bike.

It was a solid three months before Brad devised the plan that would get him a ride on that very, very fast motorcycle.

~*~

Brad surfaced in the trough of the wave, coughing and sputtering. He’d gotten salt water shoved up his nose and it fucking hurt. He shook his hair out of his eyes as he felt the firm tug on his ankle that told him his surfboard was bobbing on the surface nearby.

He’d spent the morning with some older guys who’d surfed the dawn patrol. They’d been cool and given him some hints and suggestions. Most of what they’d told him had helped, but the only thing left to do now was to practice until he mastered this. And he would master this.

Brad glanced around and realized most of the guys had moved off down the beach, or he’d just drifted away. Either way, it didn’t matter. He pulled his board to him and climbed on, straddling it to wait for the next set.

Looking toward the beach, Brad could see his mom sitting in her chair, watching his sisters build sand castles. Ryan had gone in. He was sitting next to Brad’s mom, the tail of his board buried in the sand nearby.

They weren’t allowed to come to the beach alone, yet, but in the year since Brad had wrecked Mr. Patton’s motorcycle, his parents had loosened up a little. He hadn’t mouthed off to the judge at any of his court appearances. The Prosecutor had looked at Brad’s good grades and the way his parents had come down hard on him, and she’d been lenient in her pursuit of his punishment. His judge had gone along with her suggestions.

Brad had served his probation without incident; he’d kept his grades up; he’d made restitution to Mr. Patton by helping him with yard work on the weekends, and served his one hundred hours of community service by doing anything and everything the Rabbi had told him to around the Synagogue.

It had taken a great deal of persuasion and many whole-hearted promises, but his parents had relented and bought him a surfboard so that he and Ryan could learn together. Brad suspected they had ulterior motives than just his happiness. They hoped that it would keep him occupied over the summer and, therefore, out of trouble.

So far, their plan was successful. Brad enjoyed surfing. It was challenging and freeing and it got him out of the house, even if he was still under his mom’s watchful eye.

It looked like another good set was coming so Brad got in position and paddled. This time, he stayed up longer than he ever had before. He was definitely getting the hang of this. Shaking the hair out of his eyes again, Brad started to swim further out. He was convinced he knew what he’d done wrong that time, so he formulated what he’d try this next time and visualized himself actually doing it.

He turned over onto his back and immediately, it became obvious that two things were very wrong. First, he could no longer feel the tug of his board on his ankle. Second, he’d swum much further out into the surf than he’d meant to. Lifting his foot from the water, Brad saw that his leash must have come unfastened, rather than severed. Shit. He could see his board sliding onto the beach as if delivered up as an offering.

He started to swim toward the beach.

Brad kicked hard and extended his arms to maximize his reach in the water. He was a good, strong swimmer. A set should be rolling in any second now to carry him in. He was getting a little tired.

He looked up to gauge his distance from the beach. It didn’t appear as though he was any closer than he had been when he’d started. A tendril of fear snaked up Brad’s spine and he kicked harder.

His heart was pounding now and it wasn’t all from exertion. He could see waves breaking in front of him, but none of them were forming behind him. He kicked with all his strength but he wasn’t getting any closer to the beach. His legs burned, his lungs burned. Brad stopped swimming to see if he could stand, but his feet didn’t touch bottom. He was fucked.

On the beach, he saw Ryan notice and retrieve his errant surfboard. Ryan shaded his eyes and scanned the water, ostensibly looking for Brad. He said something over his shoulder and Brad saw his mom jump out of her chair and race to the water line to stand next to Ryan.

He was beginning to feel tired but fear was spiking adrenaline through his system. Brad wasn’t sure he had the strength to swim into the beach. He needed help. It pissed him off that he needed help, but his fear was a much greater motivator.

Brad tread water, lifted an arm over his head and shouted as loud as he could; “Help!”

He knew a brief moment of relief when he saw his mom jump up and down, waving her arms over her head. She’d heard him. His fear rolled right back over him when he realized there was really no way she could help.

Her voice carried to him over the distance. Brad couldn’t make out her words. He heard Ryan’s voice, too, he just couldn’t make out what they were saying. Now his sisters were both standing at the edge of the surf. They were probably laughing at him, amused that he’d gotten himself into this mess and needed mommy to get him out.

Brad watched his mom take off down the beach at a run.

This was a surfer’s beach. Because it was mostly surfers and very few swimmers, there were no lifeguard towers. Four guards in two trucks made regular patrols, but Brad had no idea where either vehicle was or when the next patrol was expected along their portion of beach. Maybe his mom and had gone looking for them.

Brad tread water slowly. He had no idea how long he was going to be out here. He should conserve his energy. His mom knew he was out here. She’d get help. He should rest, and wait.

A couple members of the dawn patrol approached Ryan. Brad saw Ryan point out in his direction. The surfers headed out into the breakers, boards tucked under their arms. He lost sight of them in the waves as they paddled on their boards.

Suddenly, three surfers were in the water right next to Brad. They all sat up astride their boards. Brad’s embarrassment warred with relief. He wanted to act casual about his predicament, but more than anything else, he wanted their help.

“Hey, buddy,” one of them said with a smile, “you swam out past the breakers is all. There’s a trick to getting back in, but you’re gonna be okay.”

“We’ve all done it,” a second surfer said. “The current’s strong around here and sometimes you don’t know it’s there ‘til it’s too late.”

Brad appreciated their attempts to alleviate his humiliation, but the fact remained they were out there having to save his ass.

All three surfers turned the noses of their boards toward the beach and lay down on top of them.

“Grab on to my board,” said the first surfer. “I’ll get you back inside the surf and it’ll carry you in.”

They all started to paddle and Brad gripped the board so hard his fingers ached. Within seconds, he could feel the swell and drop of the inbound waves.

Brad was pushed under by a wave breaking on top of him. He lost his grip on the surf board, but he realized it didn’t matter now. With the help of the surf, he swam to the beach.

When he could finally stand, the surfers all helped him to stay steady on his feet. Ryan reached him then, helping Brad with an arm around his waist. He desperately wanted to disappear and nurse his wounded ego in private. Instead, he was surrounded by a small but concerned crowd.

“Fuck, Brad,” Ryan said over the pounding of the surf. “You had us scared.”

Brad wanted to reassure Ryan that all was well, that it had all been no big deal. His own fear was entirely too fresh. All he could do was squeeze Ryan’s shoulder in thanks.

Once they were all out of the surf, both of Brad’s sisters appeared, throwing themselves against him. There was surprising strength in their thin little arms and Brad was stunned by their overt show of concern and affection.

“Are you okay, Brad?” Rachel asked plaintively.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered gruffly, gently patting her on the back.

“We were scared,” said Hannah, tilting her face upward when Brad patted her on the head.

He ran a hand down each of their backs, taking as much comfort as he gave. He looked down at them and was surprised to see, when they looked up at him, both girls had been crying. The smallest bit of guilt crept over him at having thought they’d been laughing at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Rachel said.

A bright orange Toyota pick-up rolled to stop a few feet from them. Brad looked up in time to see his mom leap from the front seat of the vehicle and launch herself at him.

“Bradley!” she cried, her body colliding hard with his, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck and shoulders. She held onto him so tightly it hurt. “Baby, I was so scared for you.”

His embarrassment at having to be rescued was compounded by his embarrassment at his mom’s blatantly emotional display. Brad wrapped his arms around her waist and held on. Despite his embarrassment, he was relieved to be in her arms again. He felt safe, now that he could hug his mom again.

Pulling back, his mom pushed his wet hair off of his forehead. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked, searching his face closely. “You scared me so bad. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Brad said, his voice rough. He could feel himself starting to tremble. His legs were weak and he was breathing fast and hard.

“He got too far out past the surf,” said the surfer who’d had Brad hang on to his board.

Suddenly, Brad’s mom was hugging the three surfers who had come to his rescue. He was mortified. She was making this into a bigger deal than it needed to be. These guys probably didn’t want to be hugged by her.

“Hey there, what’s your name?”

Brad turned at the sound of the voice right next to him. He found himself face-to-face with a handsome lifeguard. “Brad,” he replied. He was startled by the color of the guy’s eyes. He’d never seen anyone with green eyes before; at least not that he could remember.

“Brad, I’m Aaron,” the lifeguard smiled at him, his teeth bright in his tanned face. “How are you feeling? Did you swallow a lot of water?”

The number of people gathering to witness Brad’s humiliation just kept growing. “Nah, I’m fine. Just tired from swimming.”

“That makes sense. You need to be careful not to get out beyond the surf. If that ever happens again, swim parallel to the beach.” The guard held up his hands to demonstrate. “You can’t swim in straight, the current is just too strong. If you swim parallel to the beach, slowly angling in toward the surf, you’ll make it in no problem.”

Brad nodded his understanding, grateful that the lifeguard wasn’t making a fuss. He wasn’t making the situation into more than it already was.

“You had your mom scared,” Aaron said, glancing at Brad’s mom with something akin to admiration. “She ran an entire half a mile to find us.”

“She didn’t have to do that,” Brad said. He was as embarrassed at the scene she’d made as he was gratified by the lengths she would evidently go for him. She’d run half a mile, rounded up two lifeguards and three surfers to go after him.

“Yeah she did,” Aaron answered. “She’s your mom and she was really afraid for you.”

“Bradley,” his mom called from behind him, “did you thank these boys for helping you?”

He knew it was polite. Brad knew it was the right thing to do. He was just mortified that he’d even needed help. He turned to face the surfers, expecting them to be embarrassed and annoyed with the fuss his mom was kicking up.

Instead, they seemed to be basking in it.

“This is Matt, Kyle and Nick,” his mom introduced each of the surfers.

Brad took a deep breath, met each of their eyes and shook their hands, just like his dad had taught him he should.

“Be sure to check your leash is secure next time,” Matt said, his expression and his tone friendly. Brad had expected him to be mocking. “You saw how easy it was to get back in on a board. Otherwise, like the guard said, swim parallel.”

“Thank you,” Brad said, sincerely appreciating the advice.

“See you out here next time,” Kyle said, as the three collected their boards and headed back up the beach.

“Well, you seem like you’re fine,” Aaron said, briefly laying a hand on Brad’s arm. “We’re gonna get back to our patrol.”

Brad’s arm tingled where Aaron had touched him.

“Thank you, so much,” Brad’s mom said, enveloping Aaron in a strong hug. He looked just as pleased by her gratitude as the surfers had.

“It was no problem, ma’am,” Aaron replied. “We’re glad it turned out okay.”

Brad was once again enveloped in his mom’s arms. “Bradley, honey, you scared me to death. When I realized you were in trouble, my heart started beating so fast I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wondering how long it would be before his embarrassment faded.

“I know it was an accident. I know you weren’t out there taking risks. At least not this time. But I was still so afraid I was going to lose you.”

“You made good time, Mrs. Colbert,” Ryan said from where he stood, holding Rachel’s and Hanna’s hands. “I didn’t know you could run that fast.”

“Neither did I,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. She leaned in and kissed Brad’s cheek loudly. “I think we’re done for the day.”

“But, Mom, it’s early,” Brad protested. All he needed was a short break, something to eat and a bottle of water and he’d be ready to hit the waves once more. Quitting now would show weakness.

“We’ll come back another day, Bradley. You’re my son and I love you, but I just can’t watch you go back into the water today.”

His relief at her words surprised Brad. The idea of going home seemed like a good one. He didn’t want everyone to know how rattled he was by what had happened so he played it cool, letting it all be about his mom needing to go home.

On the drive home, she kept her hand on Brad’s knee almost the entire time. That night, as they all watched TV, his mom pulled him in to lean against her. She kept her arms around him, letting go only long enough to run a hand over his hair and press another kiss to his temple.

Brad was a little angry with himself. He hated upsetting his mom. Ever since he’d crashed the motorcycle, he'd gone out of his way to keep her from being worried about him. He needed to learn to conquer the ocean so he never scared her that way again.

~*~

Brad was sixteen when he had sex – with Jenn – for the first time.

It wasn’t easy finding ways to be completely alone; Brad’s mom watched him like a hawk. He really didn’t blame her. Still, he and Jenn somehow managed to steal a handful of hours when they could actually get up to what it was their parents suspected them of getting up to.

They spent a lot of time kissing. Brad liked kissing. He liked a warm, open mouth pressed to his own. He liked the feel of a seeking tongue rubbing against his own. Jenn wasn’t quite as aggressive a kisser as Brad preferred, not like that one sophomore in his dorm, anyway. Still, she was soft and silky to touch and she smelled good.

They sat now, on the sofa in Jennifer’s living room, kissing deeply and running their hands over one another. It would be several hours before Jenn’s parents came home, but Brad was impatient. He was always impatient. It always seemed like whatever it was he wanted, whatever it was that would finally ease his restlessness, was just out of his reach.

Brad slid his hands beneath Jenn’s tank top. This was how it always went with them. They’d kiss. Brad would cup Jennifer’s small breasts in his now large hands, and eventually, she’d let him suck on her nipples. Eventually, he’d unfasten her shorts and slowly, carefully, slide two fingers up inside of her. She’d be so hot and slick, he’d wonder what it would be like to slide his dick in, instead.

Jenn would always say no to that, and Brad would have to go home and jerk-off in his own bed. He’d grown used to it. Once he returned to school, he wouldn’t have to come into his own hand anymore.

Besides, this was Jenn. He loved her.

This time, Jenn surprised him. Shifting back, she reached for the button of Brad’s shorts. He watched in fascination, not daring to even breathe, as Jennifer took his cock out of his briefs and leaned over to kiss it.

Jenn thought this was his first blowjob. He would never tell her otherwise. Besides, getting his dick sucked by classmates in dark corners of his dormitory didn’t count. This counted, because Jennifer was his girlfriend and he loved her.

Upstairs in Jenn’s bedroom, they undressed each other awkwardly. It was the first time Brad had been naked with a girl. When he went down on her, he was sure he was as poor at this as Jenn had been at sucking his dick, so he tried to make up for his lack of skill with an abundance of enthusiasm.

Jenn’s hands were suddenly impatiently tugging at his arms and shoulders. Brad went eagerly when she pulled him up between her legs. He looked down to see Jenn holding a foil condom packet between them. Lifting her head, she pressed her lips to his briefly, then whispered, “Make love to me, Brad.”

He could do that.

He’d heard stories of how much this hurt for girls the first time and he was suddenly nervous. He wanted this, but he didn’t want to hurt Jenn.

“I’ll be okay, Brad. I trust you,” she said breathlessly.  

It was horrible. Oh, it felt good and Brad’s toes curled when he came, but he didn’t last more than a few thrusts and he knew he had no rhythm and no finesse. He loved being deep inside of Jenn, though. The feel of her around him was magical. He silently promised himself he’d make it better for her next time.

Brad gently pulled out and threw the condom away in Jenn’s bathroom. He slid down next to her on her narrow bed and looked closely at her, wondering how she felt about such a life-altering experience.

Jenn curled around him, draping her body over his. She rested her head on his shoulder and pressed her face to his throat. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” Brad said. And he meant it.

~*~

Brad pulled his bike into the driveway of his parents’ house. He hadn’t lived here since he’d been stationed at Pendleton after Boot Camp. He lived close enough to visit but not so near as to have his mom interfering in every aspect of his life.

Tonight, he wished his mom had been just a little bit closer.

He killed the engine of his bike and sat looking up at the darkened house. There was one light, barely visible, in the living room window. He knew it was his mom’s reading light. He was immeasurably relieved to find she was still awake.

As he walked to the front door, Brad remembered he should have parked his bike further down the street. His mom knew he rode it, and rode it too fast, but as long as she didn’t see it, she didn’t feel the need to harangue him about it.

Tonight he didn’t give a fuck.

He rapped lightly with his knuckles on the front door, just loud enough to gain her attention, and not enough to wake the rest of his family. He heard movement and knew his mom was looking through the security hole.

The locks slid and the door flew open. His mother stood inside, shock coloring her expression. “Brad, what are you doing here so late? Is something wrong?”

Brad stepped across the threshold and something must have shown on his face. His mom pulled him into her arms and held him tightly against her. This is what he’d come here for; instant acceptance and easy comfort. She rocked them slowly from side to side and she ran her hands up and down his back. He held onto her desperately, even as he knew his grip most likely hurt.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” she said in the low, soothing voice she’d used as long as he could remember. It had always brought him comfort. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Brad kept his mom clutched to him. As long as she couldn’t see his face, she wouldn’t know he was crying. His chest hurt as though someone had driven a Ka-Bar through his breastbone and kept twisting it in slow, agonizing circles. “Ryan and Jenn,” he said, ashamed at the rough sound of his own voice.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” his mom said, holding him that much closer. “Come on, let’s sit down and you can tell me how they did it.”

He pulled out of his mom’s arms, keeping his face carefully averted. His stomach was sour and it kept churning and burning so Brad was constantly swallowing back bile. His mom closed and locked the door and tugged his hand to lead him to the couch where she’d been reading when he’d interrupted. His mom resumed her usual seat. Brad dropped down heavily beside her, perching on the edge of the cushion. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared down at the carpet. He couldn’t unclench his muscles and he couldn’t let his mom see his tears.

“How’d they go about it?” his mom demanded. She sounded angry and not surprised.

“Jenn broke off our engagement,” Brad choked out.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo.” She ran the palm of one hand along his back. The warmth was soothing.

“She left me for Ryan,” he said angrily. He was angry with himself for not seeing this coming. He hated surprises.

“Things have been headed that direction for awhile now,” his mom murmured.

Everyone had seen it coming but him, apparently. He clenched his jaw and swallowed down another sob.

“She wants to be friends,” Brad spat the word like a curse. “They both want to stay friends. It’s them, not me. She’s just not strong enough to be alone so much of the time.”

“That much is true, sweetheart,” his mom said adamantly. “Neither of them understands you anymore. Jenn isn’t good enough for you. They’re only worried about themselves. Their character flaws are _not_ your fault.”

“They said they’ve been telling me for years what they’ve needed from me and I’ve just ignored them and done what I wanted to do.” Brad thought back over the years trying to find times he could have made any other choices than the ones he had.

“Have they ever given you anything you’ve needed from them? Or have they continually told you what you had to do to make them happy?”

Brad was confused and it added to his despair. “I’ve been so happy. I thought they were happy for me.”

“They should have been,” his mom said with a shocking ferocity. “If they really loved you, they would have been.”

“You always told me I had to love myself.” Brad had taken his mom’s words to heart and now he needed her to tell him he’d been right. “That I had to be happy before anyone else could accept me and love me.”

She ran a hand over the back of his head, as if trying to sooth him. “It’s true. It’s as true now as it always has been.”

He wanted to feel the same conviction in his heart that he heard in her voice. “But it’s not. They don’t love me.”

Her palm cupped the back of his neck firmly. “Bradley, this is about their shortcomings, not yours. Imagine how miserable you’d be right now if you’d done everything they’d demanded of you. You’d have built your life around their expectations and they’d have left you anyway, just like this.”

Ryan and Jenn had been so insistent that he’d been the one to let them down. Brad had never felt guilty about the men he knew or what he’d done on libo, at least until now. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, sweetie. I do know this.” Her hand resumed the comforting strokes along his achingly tense back.  “They haven’t acted like they love you in a very long time.”

“So what’s wrong with me?” he choked back the sob that had been threatening to break free for several moments. Voicing this fear felt like ripping out his very own heart.

His mom wrapped her arms around his waist and he felt her press her forehead to his shoulder blade. “There’s nothing wrong with you, baby. _Nothing._ Don’t let them put that thought in your head.”

Brad shook his head adamantly. She didn’t understand and there were things he couldn’t tell her. “Why doesn’t anyone want me?”

“No,” his mom said, voice rough with righteous anger, “no, I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop that right now.”

“My birth parents didn’t want me …” he finally said the words that had been languishing in the back of his mind and bringing him such anguish.

Her arms tightened around his waist. “You don’t know that. You don’t know that at all. You birth mother might have wanted you very much but _couldn’t_ keep you.”

“She didn’t even try,” his last word was a sob he managed to turn into a cough.

“And I am so glad she didn’t because if she had, I wouldn’t have had the privilege of the raising you.” His mom began to rock them side-to-side again. “If she’d kept you, I wouldn’t have had the honor of watching you grow up into a man. A man I’m very, very proud to say is my son.”

Brad made a scoffing sound. “I was not very easy to raise. There was more than one time you regretted adopting me.”

“Never,” she hissed. “I never regretted adopting you. There were times I doubted _I_ was the right one to be raising you, but it was always about _my_ failings, not yours.”

“I’m still not good enough for Ryan and Jenn.” Brad couldn’t get their words out of his head. He couldn’t shake his guilt that Jenn hadn’t always been enough.

“You’re _too_ good for them. On some level they know that, which is why they ended up sneaking around together.”

How he wanted to believe her. “Maybe I’m just not supposed to have everything I want.”

“Oh, baby, don’t say that.”

“Maybe I’m just supposed to be the best Marine I can be.” He had his outlets. He didn’t need commitment. Especially if it came with this kind of pain.

“You already are the best Marine you can be. You just need to live the life that makes you happy until the person who can appreciate you recognizes how great you are.”

Brad shrugged. He didn’t think that person existed.

“Look at me. Look at me, Bradley,” she demanded, using both hands on his face to force him to look her in the eye. “Whatever they told you is wrong with you, you remember one thing; you are my son, and I love you very much.”

He couldn’t help the sob that finally escaped him. He was mortified when his tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. He hadn’t cried in years. His mom pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder. She rubbed his back and rocked them both back and forth. She said nothing, but just let him cry.

This would be the last time he shed tears over a betrayal. His mom would be the only one to ever see him cry like this. She was his mom and he knew she wouldn’t judge him for this weakness. He’d let her have his tears this once.

~*~

Brad sat at the counter in his mom’s kitchen. He watched her stirring honey into a cup of tea. He was half way through his beer. He leaned down and reached into the backpack at his feet. Withdrawing the sealed envelope, he set it on the counter in front of him.

He saw his mom glance at it, saw her recognize her name written in his handwriting before she looked away. She didn’t ask.

Brad took another drink of his beer and pushed the envelope across the counter toward his mom.

“Would you keep this someplace safe? Don’t open it unless something happens to me. If something does happen, would you please follow the instructions inside?”

She picked up the envelope and looked closely, as if she could see the contents through the opaque white paper. “What’s this? We have your updated will and powers of attorney, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Dad has all the official stuff locked in the safe.” Brad swallowed and took a deep breath. “This is unofficial.”

“Oh. Okay.” She carefully set the envelope down on the counter. “Are you expecting something to happen? I didn’t think you were going to deploy with the Royal Marines, just train with them.”

“No, there’s not going to be a deployment. But shit happens. Things can go wrong in training, too.”

“How well I remember,” his mom said ruefully. “At least that was just a broken ankle.”

“You only need to open that if I can’t pick up a phone anymore. If you get notified officially … just follow the instructions inside.”

“Will there be someone on the other end of the phone who understands who I am?”

“Yeah. The fact you're calling will be a message itself.”

She sighed heavily. “I would really hate for that to be the way I meet this person for the first time.”

Brad didn’t know how to respond. It was uncanny, what his mother was correctly assuming and what she was carefully not saying.

“Just don’t make me have to open this envelope,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

“I won’t.”

~*~

Brad collapsed on the sofa next to his mom. She set her book aside and smiled at him. They should both be in bed. He had an early flight tomorrow and she was taking him to the airport.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Reaching into the drawer of the end table beside her, his mom withdrew the envelope he’d given to her before he’d left for England the year before. “Am I still hanging on to this?”

Brad took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.” She slid the envelope back into the drawer. “Is that envelope the reason we’re only getting to see you for one week of your two-week leave?” she asked, her tone deceptively light.

Brad considered how to answer. “Yeah. That envelope is the reason I’m flying to Boston tomorrow.”

She nodded in understanding. “Just remember, Bradley; you’re my son, and I love you very much.”

“I know.”

“Do you? No matter what, I love you. I want you happy and healthy. I know you’re healthy, but I don’t think you were happy for a number of years. Something changed after you came back from Iraq. I don’t know how Iraq was different from Afghanistan, but you came back … changed.”

Yeah. Brad imagined he had.

“Well, you seem happier these days and that makes me very happy.”

~*~

 Brad found his mom in the kitchen, fussing over the last of the dinner dishes.

“I’m gonna go, Mom,” he said, holding his arms out to hug her.

“Oh, okay,” she said, throwing the tea towel over her shoulder. She stepped into his arms and squeezed him tightly around his waist. “You know you could have stayed here like you usually do.”

“No, not this time,” he said carefully, steeling himself for the groundwork he needed to lie.

“You’ll be here for breakfast, right?”

“Yes.” Brad took a deep breath. “And I’ll be bringing someone with me.”

He felt his mom tense against him. She didn’t move. He was relatively sure she’d stopped breathing.

“Your guest; would this be the reason you’re staying in a hotel this trip?” Brad was impressed with how casual she managed to sound.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” There. He’d said it. It was out there. Now he just had to wait.

“If I’d had to open that envelope you have me hang on to when you’re deployed,” she hesitated but Brad knew what was coming. “Would he have been who I would have talked to?”

Brad sighed; relieved they hadn’t had to meet for the first time under the worst of circumstances. “Yeah, he’d have been the voice on the other end of the phone.”

“You could have brought him to stay here, too, you know,” his mom said after several tense heartbeats.

Brad tried to swallow past his suddenly dry mouth while his heart raced in his chest. “I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea.”

His mom pulled back and looked up at him, incredulous. “And why not? Because he’s a he?”

“Well … yeah.” Brad’s entire body tensed as he waited.

She pulled all the way out of his arms and slapped her open palm against his chest. “Bradley, I’ve been aware you like girls _and_ boys for a few years now.” She turned back to the dishes she was placing in the cupboard.

Brad had no idea what to say. All he could manage to ask was, “How?”

His mom glanced at him over her shoulder. “A mother knows these things.”

“You can’t just know things like _that_ ,” Brad protested, shifting his weight and battling embarrassment.

“I know _you_ , though. Oh, you’re careful and you’re far from obvious. But once in awhile, you’d mention a friend in a way that was just a little more respectful, a little more admiring, than you talked about every other man you knew.”

“But I never talked about women in any special way?”

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him again. “Brad, honey, you haven’t talked about a woman other than Jennifer. Ever. And the way you talk about her changed overnight. And you know what night that was.”

Brad leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and considered his mom’s words. “How come you never said anything?”

“I knew it would make you uncomfortable. I just hoped that when you got the one-night-stands out of your system you’d find _someone_ you liked enough to bring home.”

Brad’s spine snapped straight and he stood at his full height. He had no idea his mother had known about the one-nighters. He hoped she didn’t know about the whores, too.

“Don’t look so shocked, Bradley. I said I _know_ you.”

He buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, suddenly feeling like an awkward twelve-year old again. “Well, it looks like you’re getting your wish.”

“And you have no idea how happy I am for you. I just wish you’d been comfortable enough to bring him for a visit before now.”

“I didn’t believe he was going to stick around, before now.” Brad swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

“I can’t wait to hear how he got past your stubborn streak.”

Brad couldn’t help the stupid smile he felt spreading across his face. “He’s both persistent and persuasive.”

“So tell me all about him,” his mom said, a smile blossoming on her face. She resembled an excited school girl. “What’s his name? Where did you meet him? What does he do for a living? He must be okay with you being a Marine. Where’s he from? Is he the same age as you? I bet he’s handsome. I mean, you’re such a … what do they say these days? … a hottie. You’re such a hottie, you have to be able to score a hottie of your own.”

“Mom!”

“Well!” she smacked the tea towel across his arm before casually slinging it back over her shoulder. “So tell me!”

“His name is Nate. Nate Fick. He just finished getting a double Master’s from Harvard.”

“Nate Fick. That’s somewhat unusual. It sounds familiar, though.” Brad’s mom gave him a hard look. “Why does his name sound familiar, Bradley?”

“He used to be a Marine.”

“Used to be. So you served with him?”

Brad paused for several seconds, wondering if this would be the one thing his mother couldn’t accept. “He was my platoon commander in Iraq.”

“He was your …” her eyes grew wide. “Oh, Brad, you two didn’t …”

“No! No.” Brad took a deep breath, reluctant to discuss the details of his sex life with his _mom_. “No, we didn’t. Not until he was already out of the Corps.”

“Okay. Good. This idiot Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell thing is difficult enough, you don’t need to be messing around with the rules against fraternization, too.”

“Yeah, no, Nate would agree with you there.”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Brad looked at the ceiling, hoping for patience and waiting for his blush to subside. “Yeah. He’s a hottie.”

His mom held out her arms to him. Brad let himself be hugged. “I’m so happy for you. And your family is going to love Nate, so don’t let that worry you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “He’s going to love all of you, too.”

Brad was nearly out of the kitchen when his mom called him back. “What is it about him?”

“He accepts me as I am; my strengths and my weaknesses, and he doesn’t want me to change. He offers compromises before he demands capitulation. And I helped him lead a group of men out of an unforgiving desert.”

His mom gave him a watery smile. “I love him already.”

~*~

Brad buried his hands in his front pockets. He leaned down and gently pressed his mouth to Nate’s. He could smell Nate’s cologne; feel how soft and warm his lips were. He’d only meant to show a little affection. Nate had asked that he try to do that a little more often. They were in his mother’s kitchen and Brad was uncomfortable with the idea of making out here, but he wanted Nate to know how much Brad appreciated him.

He tilted his head slightly to adjust the angle and licked at the seam of Nate’s mouth. Brad felt Nate’s lips begin to part just as the kitchen door opened.

His mom’s voice was a sniper shot on a quiet night. “Hey, Brad? Would you boys like … oh … oops … sorry.”

Brad leaped back from Nate as though he’d been scalded. His face flamed with his embarrassment and he had to keep his back to his mom in order to hide his burgeoning erection.

Nate leaned one hand on the counter beside him and fisted the other on his hip. He was bent at the waist, studying his shoes but Brad could tell he was struggling to suppress a grin. He was also struggling to hide his own hard-on. Brad took a deep breath, grateful Nate was able to see the humor inherent in his family and hadn’t walked out hours ago.

He glanced over his shoulder toward where his mom stood. She had both palms pressed tightly to her mouth. Her expression was apologetic but her eyes sparkled with humor and mischief.

Lowering her hands, his mom said, “I’m so, so sorry, boys. I apologize for interrupting.”

Brad sighed. “You don’t look the least bit contrite, _Mother._ ”

“Nate, I really am sorry if I embarrassed you,” she said, holding one hand over her heart. Her expression was so earnest, Brad almost laughed.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Colbert,” Nate replied with a quick glance at Brad.

To Brad’s relief, Nate looked amused by the entire situation.

His mom’s expression grew serious. “Oh, none of that Mrs. Colbert garbage. You’re family now.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Nate replied with a solemnity Brad could tell was genuine.

“You know, you two really are a handsome couple,” his mom said, smiling broadly.

“Mom, please,” Brad pleaded, knowing as he did that it was futile.

His mom ignored him completely. “Nate, may I hug you?” The gentleness of her tone surprised Brad.

“I’d be honored,” Nate replied, opening his arms to her.

Nate was several inches shorter than Brad but he was still significantly taller than Brad’s mom. Still, he held her gently as she wrapped her arms around him fiercely. Brad’s chest tightened at the sight. Maybe he really had made all the right decisions.

“Thank you for making my son happy,” he heard him mom whisper to Nate.

Brad’s breath caught in his chest.

Nate pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He makes me very happy, too.”

Brad started breathing again, desperately wanting to get Nate alone as quickly as possible.

“It’s late, mom,” he said gently. “We should be going.”

Her expression clearly showed disappointment as she asked, “You’ll meet us at the restaurant for brunch, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Brad replied, drawing her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “We’ll both see you tomorrow.”

Brad held out his hand. Nate took it without hesitation, twining their fingers together. They each called a goodnight to his mom, as Brad led Nate out into the night.

 

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> Completely unbeta'd. All errors are my own.


End file.
